


Heartbeat

by mihomi98



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, M/M, Rehab, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihomi98/pseuds/mihomi98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire had messed up for the last time, and he had to fix it. If he didn't, everything that he had ever wanted, everything he had ever loved, would be gone. He had to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat

            Grantaire’s hand shook as he brushed his fingers over the bronze doorknob of his front door, breathing in deeply. “You ca’ do this, Nicolas. Marcelin won’t hate you,” Grantaire slurred to himself before finally pushing the door open. He took another swig from his hip flask and staggered inside, hoping that the additional liquid courage would make the conversation easier. Truth be told, he should have been home hours earlier, but after his failure of a day, he had decided that a trip to the nearest bar was in order before walking back to Enjolras and his home, and that “trip” had turned into a night-long event.  

            “Enjy, I’m ‘ome!” Grantaire exclaimed, dropping his house keys on the table, trying to sound as normal as possible. When no response came, Grantaire looked around in confusion. Enjolras normally waited up for him, even if it was just to glare at his partner for coming home so late and inebriated. Had Enjolras already figured out what had happened and decided Grantaire wasn’t worth his anger? “Enjy?”

            “In here,” a soft reply came from the dining room. Grantaire made his way towards the sound, flinching as he knocked over the entryway table and a desk lamp. He could hear a sigh from the other room. Grantaire followed the sound, smiling softly before going to kiss Enjolras hello, like he did every time he came home, only to have the blond turn away. Grantaire pouted, standing back up. He crossed his arms.

            “Ap’llo, what’s wron’?”

            Enjolras glared at the table in front of him, causing Grantaire even more confusion.  In his drunken haze, Grantaire was unable to tell that Enjolras had made his favorite foods for dinner. They were lying in serving containers, ruined by the hours that they had been waiting to be devoured.  “Do you even know what time it is?” Enjolras finally ground out, his teeth clicking sharply as he pressed them together. Grantaire shook his head. Enjolras sniffed irately. “It’s five o’clock in the morning. You promised me that you would come straight home from your interview yesterday.”

            The thought of the interview made Grantaire sober up some. “A’out that...” he began, fighting to keep his words steady. “Wha’ would you d’ if I for- forgo—forgin--- fuck it, di’n’t go?”

            Enjolras stood up rapidly, pushing the chair back from the table harshly. “Grantaire, you are _never_ going to change.” The use of Grantaire’s full surname caught his attention. His Apollo only called him Grantaire when he held and exorbitant amount of anger towards him. Normally, he called Grantaire _‘Taire_ or _R,_ and when he was being affectionate, _Nic_ or _Nicolas._   _Grantaire_ wasn’t a good sign. Enjolras pushed his amber curls away from his brow, his eyes flashing dangerously. “God, why do I even bother? I spend hours, hours that I _could be using to prepare for my campaign speech,_ trying to make your favorite dinner to celebrate that you had an interview, finally, and what do you do? You _forget to go,_ and you didn’t just forget to go, oh, of course not. You decide that rather than coming home to your lover and explaining the situation, you would stay out all night without so much as a phone call to let him know that you aren’t dead!” Enjolras stormed away from the table, towards the coat closet near the garage. From Grantaire’s position at the table, he could see Enjolras taking his car keys and wallet.

            A shiver of fear ran down Grantaire’s spine. “Whe’ are you goin’?” he asked, his voice small and choked. Grantaire’s heart began to beat so rapidly that he feared it would bounce off of the walls of his ribcage, breaking every bone until his chest was nothing more than shattered remnants of happier times. Had he committed the last sin, taken the last straw? Was his decision going to make him lose his partner of five years?

            “I can’t be around you anymore. I’m going to my office to think things through,” Enjolras responded, his voice cold. “There’s only a few months until the elections for Congress. I need to focus.” He started to walk through the door. 

            “WAI’!” Grantaire called, staggering once more towards Enjolras. He was beginning to hyperventilate, his fears becoming worse. “I’m sorry. Plea’ don’ lea’ me,” he begged, grabbing onto Enjolras’ hand desperately. “I lo’ you. I nee’you. Plea’.” Grantaire’s eyes began to gloss over with tears. Had he been sober in this situation, he would have been able to see that Enjolras wasn’t planning on leaving him quite yet, and that his tears were unnecessary in pleading his case as to why the love of his life should stay with him, even while Grantaire treated him so poorly. Alas, the drink had long since gone to the man’s head, and he was unable to see past the man he loved and his greatest vice. “Wha’ d’ you wan’ from me?” He tried to hug Enjolras, flinching once more when the man rejected him a second time. Grantaire nodded sadly before holding himself.

`           Enjolras turned, the deep green of his eyes barely visible through the narrowed slits. “I really hate who you are sometimes, Grantaire. I don’t know how much more I can take of this.” He shook his head, turning to the door again. “I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll be back in a few days.” Enjolras stormed towards the door, leaving without a second glance behind.  

            Grantaire was desperate to speak, but his tongue felt frozen. He could not form any plea, any cry for his love to stay.  He wanted to promise Enjolras that he could change, that he was still worthy of the man’s love, but the words refused to come. .

            Grantaire stared at the door blankly for several moments, his tears still soaking into his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his hand roughly against his face, wiping the tears away. After a few more melancholy sniffs, Grantaire returned to the dining room, finally getting a proper look at the table. His heart sunk as he realized just how much time his Enjy had spent trying to make this special for Grantaire. To think, Grantaire had once again screwed everything up. God, would he ever get things right? Would he ever again make Enjolras happy?

            Grantaire took out his flask, screwing and unscrewing the lid before downing the rest of the flask in a single gulp. His throat burning, Grantaire wiped his mouth before heading up the stairs to Enjolras and his room, lying down on the mattress. Maybe when he woke up, he would be lucky enough to be dead.  

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

            When Grantaire finally awoke, it was around seven o’clock that evening. He smiled before calling out to Enjolras, hoping that his man would be around for some evening cuddle time. Out of habit, he immediately grabbed his wine bottle out of the cabinet next to his bed, taking a several gulps, enough to make him a bit tipsy, before calling out to Enjolras again.  The silence that greeted Grantaire shook him back into reality, causing him to remember what his Apollo had said last night. _I don’t know how much more I can take of this._ Grantaire froze as the phrase burst into his head. Had that been real? Had Enjolras really suggested that he could soon be done with his Grantaire?

            Grantaire felt uncertain. “Marcelin?” he called out again, his voice shaking. “Marcelin? Are you there?” When there was still no response, his heart felt like it had stopped. He rushed downstairs, checking Enjolras’ office, as well as every other room in the house. Enjolras was not there.

Grantaire began to feel afraid once more. He put the bottle back in the cabinet immediately, casting it off as if it scalded his palm, before standing up and pacing around the room, thoughts stirring. Enjolras really had left. Even if it was not for good, he had told Grantaire that he needed a few days away from him. He had told Grantaire that he sometimes hated him. He had told Grantaire that he was not sure what else he could take.

            Thoughts of what he needed to do filled Grantaire’s head. Should he try to get sober, to give up what had made Grantaire the man that he was? Would he be able to keep his lover? Grantaire felt conflicted. On the one hand, if he was able to give up his Green Lady, Enjolras wouldn’t be angry with him any longer, wouldn’t hate him anymore. On the other, Grantaire could die from the withdrawal. But, if he succeeded, and Enjolras loved him again… he could finally get Enjolras to agree to marry him. While he had never genuinely proposed, Grantaire had been hinting at the possibility of marriage and staring a family with his lover for ages now. However, Enjolras had an image to uphold, and Grantaire’s fear of ruining Enjolras’ chances at his dreams overpowered his own dream of a husband.

            God, Grantaire could not remember a time when he did not want to be with Enjolras forever. The boys were in their first year of University when they met during a Politics class. Grantaire fell for the golden-haired youth the very first time that Enjolras gave a speech about what he dreamed of a future for France. His passion and enthusiasm was what drew the raven to the sun. It was not, though, until the boys’ junior year that Grantaire actually had the courage to speak to Enjolras, and it had to be Enjolras that made the first move. The boys had talked when they were around mutual friends prior to that night, of course, but they had not had a serious one-on-one conversation together. It was a memory that stuck out wildly in Grantaire’s mind.  He had attended a party with Eponine Thernadier, his best friend, and, having already pre-gamed prior to the gathering, was wasted within minutes of entering the house. Eponine and Grantaire had become close friends sophomore year, while they both were pining over men that they did not think that they would ever have.  This party was not very large: it was made of Les Amis, a group on campus that focused on changing campus for future students. Their devotion to change was not to say that they were not privy to the wonders of alcohol, though. In fact, one of the reasons that Grantaire got along so well with the other men was because Grantaire always brought the _best_ alcohol. The night had ended with a drunken Enjolras screaming, “I love you, you asinine winecask!” and kissing Grantaire after seeing the dark haired boy flirting with another Ami. Soon after that, the boys began to talk constantly, and by the end of the month, they were a couple. They had been together ever since.

            By the end of the memory, Grantaire was wiping at his eyes. He hated himself for letting his drinking get out of hand. It was not until he had graduated University that he started using alcohol every time there was something that upset him, which had turned into an almost daily occurrence. Grantaire knew that his addiction was slowly pushing his lover away, but he did not know how to stop. He had tried time after time, and while he told Enjolras the first few times that he tried to get sober, the pain of disappointing his lover caused Grantaire to keep the rest of his attempts a secret after his initial failures.

            This time, though, failure was not an option. Either Grantaire got his drinking under control, or he was going to lose the only thing that was good in his life. Grantaire was not sure that he could survive losing Enjolras… no, that is a lie. Grantaire _knew_ that he could not survive losing Enjolras. He would die for the man, so why couldn’t he give up his Green Lady for his Apollo? If he succeeded, maybe in addition to keeping his lover, he would finally be good enough to stand by Enjolras’ side as his husband. That would mean everything to Grantaire.

            Phone in hand, Grantaire made a decision. First thing first, he was going to get sober, and once he was past the withdrawal stage, he was going to find himself a job. An honest, well-paying job. Well, as good of a job that he could get with his background in art.

            Grantaire sat on the floor, his back against the wall. He pulled out his phone, happy that it was answered on the first ring. “Ep-Eponine?” he said, his voice quivering. “I…. I need a favor. Can you come over here?”

            Once the girl had consented, Grantaire hung up, leaning his head back against the wall, desperately regretting pursuing his habit of drink from wake until rest. His eyes opened wide as he realized the very first thing that he needed to do was get rid of all of the alcohol that he kept in the house. Fortunately, he did not have to fear that he was disposing of something of his partner’s, as Enjolras only drank when he was in a social setting. Grantaire set to work, pouring out every bottle and flask that he had kept hidden during the three years since the house had been purchased. He had just finished putting all the empty bottles on the counter when he heard Eponine come in through the back door.

            “Hello? Anyone home?” she called, poking her head into the kitchen, her eyes going wide when she saw all the empty bottles. “Oh my goodness, ‘Taire…. Alright, let’s get you to the hospital.”

            “No, ‘Ponine, I don’t need—“

            “I don’t care how well you think you can handle alcohol, you can’t survi—wait, why aren’t you slurring your words?” Eponine cocked her head in confusion, her brows furrowed.

            Grantaire took Eponine’s hands in his and looked her straight in the eyes. “Eponine, I poured out every bottle that I own. Every flask, every cup, every single drop of alcohol that I had hidden within the house is gone. I didn’t drink all of this.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m afraid that Enjy is planning on leaving me.”

            Eponine removed a hand from Grantaire’s grasp, forcing his head up so that their eyes met once more. “Honey, why would you say that? Yes, _everyone_ would love if you were sober, but Enjolras has always wanted to help you. He wouldn’t just leave you behind, especially with how hard you’ve been trying to get sober the last few months.”

            Eponine’s words hit him hard. He really had been trying, and it was his fault that Enjolras wasn’t aware. If only Grantaire wasn’t so afraid of the pain of withdrawal… Eponine hugged Grantaire as he began to speak. “I-I haven’t been succeeding though, ‘Ponine! I’ve been trying so, so hard, but as soon as anything goes wrong, I can’t help it! I try to resist, but before I even know what I’m doing, I’m already drunk and I just can’t stop, but when I try and stay sober, the pain gets so bad that I have to drink again to feel alive.” He hung his head. “I haven’t even told Enjy that I’ve been trying again. I feel so bad every time I see how much it is breaking him that I keep doing this, but I feel powerless against it. He has enough to worry about with the elections…. He doesn’t need his alcoholic partner dragging him down every time he fails at staying away from a drop.” The tears were coming harder now. Grantaire buried his face in the girl’s shoulder, soaking her ebony hair with his tears.

            Eponine let the man cry out his sorrows for a few more moments before she patted his head, trying to get him to look back at her. Once he did, she asked, “What was the favor that you called me over here for?”

            Grantaire sniffed before forcing a smile. “Well, Madame Pontmercy, I was hoping that… that maybe you’d help me get sober? I was hoping that I could stay at the house that Marius and you bought in the country, where I’d be far away from bars and temptation... and from Enjolras.” He bit his lip before continuing in a quieter voice. “I was also wondering if you would stay with me while I’m there so make sure I don’t slip up.”

            Eponine nodded. “Oh, of course! My students are on summer break until September, and I don’t go back until the beginning of August. That means that I have a month and a half to get you clean.” She smiled kindly. “When do you want to leave?”

            “Now?” Grantaire asked softly. Grantaire desperately wanted to be gone before Enjolras came back home. He did not want his angel to know what was going on in case he, once again, was unable to follow through with his commitment.

            Eponine thought for a moment before answering. “That should be fine, but I’m going to go and call Marius just to be sure.” Grantaire nodded as Eponine walked out. She returned several minutes later, a smile on her face. “Shall we pack a bag and leave then?”

            Grantaire grinned bashfully. “I have actually had a bag ready for this for quite some time… I just never felt as certain as I do now that I need to get my life back into order. Not for me, but for Enjy.” He bit his lip again. “It’s in the back of my closet… will you get it for me while I write Enjy a note, just so he knows I’m not leaving him for good? _S'il te plaît_?”

            Eponine kissed Grantaire on the forehead before nodding and walking to the bedroom. Grantaire went into Enjolras’ office and opened a desk drawer, hoping to find paper to write on. He was extremely surprised when he found a stack of letters, written to Enjolras from Grantaire a few years back, when Enjolras spent his final year of University abroad. Grantaire had forgotten all about those. Sighing, Grantaire put the letters back before finally finding a piece of paper. He went to the kitchen and began to write.

            _My dearest Marcelin,_ the letter read, _I’m going to be leaving for a while. Don’t worry, I won’t be gone forever. I’m only sorry that I’m not able to properly tell you goodbye… I suppose it’s for the best. I don’t know if I’d be able to leave you if you were here when I was leaving… I know it’s just temporary, but I can’t stand not seeing you. Do you remember when you spent that year in America in University? Do you remember how much we missed each other? Then, at least, we had our letters to know that the other one was safe… this time around, though, you’ll just have my word right now that I will do whatever it takes to make it back to you, a man that is worthy of your love. A man that is worthy to be by your side…. Forever._

_I hope that I haven’t pushed you so far away that you can’t remember the man that you loved._

_I’m going to miss you, my Apollo, my lover, my best friend. Wait for me? I love you, forever. I’ll be home soon, I promise._

_Sincerely, Your Nicolas_

            Grantaire put the letter on the kitchen counter and, with one final look around the room, left the house at Eponine’s side.

 

xxxxxxxxx

 

            Several hours later found Grantaire in the bed of Eponine and Marius’ second home.  He was shaking and moaning, crying out for his lover to come and hold him in his arms, to make the pain stop. Grantaire groaned as he remembered that this pain was only the start of the agony that he would be experiencing the next several days, possibly even weeks. Grantaire could remember the first time he tried to remain sober for Enjolras. It had been during the months that his Apollo had spent overseas two years prior. Enjolras was helping rebuild a city in Africa that had been struck by tragedy. Grantaire had concluded that the best gift that Enjolras could receive upon coming home was a sober partner, and while he had succeeded for a few days, once his symptoms had gotten worse, Grantaire had not been strong enough to keep himself from returning to the drink once more.

            Grantaire was glad he had returned to it when he did, though, for he wasn’t entirely sure that he would have tried to get the medical attention he so needed. This time around, Grantaire was ready to do whatever it would take. He had already made Eponine promise to take him to a hospital if anything should start happening to him within the next few days. Grantaire had also, of course, made the girl promise that neither her husband nor she would make any mention of Grantaire’s whereabouts to anyone, no matter how many times they asked if Eponine or Marius knew where Grantaire had disappeared to.

            _Fuck._ It had only been a day since the fight, and already Grantaire was missing his man like mad. He went to his wallet and took out the picture that he had carried around of Enjy for ages. It was taken at Eponine and Marius’ wedding, a month after the boys had started dating. In the picture, Enjolras and Grantaire were standing side by side, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, their heads leaning together, their faces beaming at their friends’ happiness. Grantaire had been wearing an olive green dress shirt and khaki pants, his unruly ebony hair barely held down by a tan pageboy hat. Enjolras was in dark jeans and a black button down, a red blazer thrown on at the last possible minute. Grantaire bit his lip he ran a shaky fingers over the image of Enjolras, taking in the way that his lover’s blonde hair twisted and landed against his fair skin beautifully, his viridian eyes sparking with joy.  He dropped a kiss to the man’s imaged head before leaning the picture up against the clock on the nightstand next to him.

            Suddenly, Grantaire’s stomach exploded with pain, sending him sprinting towards the bathroom. He made it there just in time, his dark hair splayed around the porcelain seat as he vomited, his stomach and throat clenching as the lack of contents in his stomach tried to come back up. Tears streamed from his eyes, snot dripping from his nostrils from the force of his heaving. When he was finally spent, he leaned back against the tub that was next to the toilet, his breathing ragged. He prayed that he would not spend too much time vomiting, but he knew that that would not be the case, for as soon as the thought crossed his mind, his face was buried in the alabaster throne once more. The cycle continued, vomiting and shaking and gasping for breath, for the better part of an hour.

            When Grantaire’s body was finally convinced it had rid itself of any trace of alcohol, Grantaire rolled himself into a ball on the floor, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, trembling like a leaf. He was drenched in sweat, his skin scalding and frozen at the same time. Every beat of his heart felt like a shock to his system, the feeling of blood running through his veins made Grantaire feel as though there was a fire burning through his body. He began to cry. He felt pathetic. How could he have ever let it get this bad? Was this really what he had amounted to in his short twenty-five years of life? While all of Grantaire’s friends had jobs and were starting families, Grantaire was still the immature winecask who couldn’t get a job or make anything of himself. Why did Enjolras even stay with him? All Grantaire did was sink further into the cesspool of failure, and he was dragging Enjolras down with him. Maybe he should just give up now, before the pain got worse, and kill himself before the withdrawals offed him anyhow. Enjolras would be better off without him.

            Hell, who was Grantaire kidding? Even if he managed to survive the next week, stay sober, and get a job, why would someone as perfect as his Marcelin want to marry and have a family with him? His Apollo could have anyone, man or woman, that he wanted. Someone else who would help Enjy with his campaign, not distract him from it. Someone who would stay up and wait for Enjy to finish working so that they could spend time together, not be the reason that he stayed up worrying.

            What if Enjolras was so sick of Grantaire that when Grantaire was finally a man that his lover could be proud of, Enjolras did not care how much Grantaire had changed? What if Enjolras no longer loved Grantaire? What if Grantaire was going through all this pain for nothing? What if Enjolras had gotten so used to Grantaire’s alcoholic ways that he did not like the man Grantaire was sober?

            “No. Shut up, winecask,” Grantaire chided himself, pushing himself back up. “If Enjolras can love you when you’re drunk off your ass, he sure as hell can love you when you’re finally the man he wants you to be.”

            Grantaire stood and faced the mirror, taking a good look at the man that he had become. His face was ghastly white, his hazel eyes nearly completely black from the dilation of his pupils, the whites of his eyes red from the force of his vomiting. Beads of sweat covered his entire body, and he was still trembling.

            He heard a voice from the other room. “R, we’re back!”

            Grantaire slowly made his way to the bedroom, where he knew Eponine would be waiting for him. Sure enough, the girl was sitting on the bed with crackers and a bottle of water. “I thought you might want to try these,” she said, holding out the nourishment to Grantaire once he sat downnext to her. He shook his head. Eponine nodded, placing the items on the nightstand, before giving Grantaire a quick hug. “How are you feeling?”

            “Like shit,” Grantaire choked out, his voice raspy.  After a moment of contemplation, Grantaire decide to try some of the water. As soon as the liquid touched his lips, though, he was forced to rush back to the bathroom, his stomach rebelling again. Fortunately, it was only the one time before Grantaire was able to drag himself back to the room, where he promptly fell on the bed. Eponine moved him so that his head was on her lap, and she began to toy with his hair.

            “Try to get some sleep, R,” she urged. “The pain won’t be as bad when you wake up.”

            Grantaire nodded, falling into a fitful sleep.

 

xxxxxxxxx

 

            “R, wake up!” Grantaire opened his eyes groggily, his heart racing at the sound of his lover’s voice. He sat up rapidly, moaning in pain as his head began to throb insistently.

            “Marce?” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras was not supposed to be able to find him here! He would just be another disappointment if Enjolras saw him now! “You shouldn’t be here! How did you find me?”

            “I found you because you, you asinine man, don’t know how to be hidden.” Grantaire bit his lip at the insult and hung his head in shame before his hand twitched, craving the feel of his lover’s arms around him. Even though Grantaire did not want Enjolras to see him in such a state, he _needed_ to be held and loved. He reached out to touch his lover, but was unable to reach him. Confused, Grantaire tried again and again, but with every attempt, the man seemed to move farther and farther away.

            “Marce, come back,” Grantaire whined, trying desperately to reach his love. “I need you. Please.”

            Enjolras shook his head, his eyes burning with anger. “No. You need your Green Lady. That’s the only thing you want right now.”

            Grantaire’s eyes widened. “No, Marce! I want you! Only you! I’m done with my lady forevermore.”

            A bottle appeared from behind Enjolras’ back. He dangled it in front of Grantaire’s face, swinging the glass back and forth. “It will make all the pain go away and make everything go back to normal. Just one drop, and all your pain will go away. You’ll be free once more.”

            “No, Enjy! No! I don’t need it! I only need you!”

            “Sure, you do, you little--- R! R!” The voice suddenly changed. “R? Do you hear me?”

            Grantaire shook his head as Eponine came into view. Grantaire stared at her in utter dismay at the loss of his lover before he remembered what he had been warned about many a time: hallucinations. None of this was real. Enjolras had not found him, wasn’t trying to tempt him back into his vices. It was just Grantaire’s alcoholic side trying to emerge once more.  

            Suddenly, something did not feel right. Grantaire could feel his face go slack. “Grantaire? What’s wrong?” he heard Eponine ask, her voice worried.

            Grantaire’s body went rigid, every muscle as taunt as the string of a strung bow. Pain fired from every nerve ending, wrapping Grantaire in a series of bursts of ice and fire. The pain grew more and more unbearable as tremors began to wrack his being. He fought to keep from hurting himself, but the fist he had curled his fingers into when he had lied down were pressing agonizingly deep into his palm, the tips of his uncut nails piercing deep red half moons into the tender flesh. Grantaire tried to relax the digits, only to realize that his body’s actions were out of his control. The walls of his chest began to shut, squeezing in tighter and tighter until his lungs were locked in an iron box. He could not breathe. Grantaire began to panic, the tremors getting worse the more afraid that he got.  The pain was getting worse as well, coming one shot on top of another as though he was being torn apart by a machine gun. Grantaire’s head began to swirl as the lack of oxygen went to his brain. His thoughts were becoming muddled. The room was getting darker. The air was getting colder, and colder, and colder still, until Grantaire felt as though he had been left stranded on the top of Mount Everest, with no clothes on his back. His mouth filled with blood as his chattering teeth bit down on his tongue, leaving deep slits and a metallic tang, and his thoughts were whirring, and his heart was racing, and he could hear Eponine in the distance, but she was far away, so far away…

            And then there was nothing.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

                       

            The bright white lights where the first thing that Grantaire noticed. No noise, no objects, no disturbances. Just warm, white light. It was getting closer and closer, it’s heat finally warming Grantaire. He figured that he must be in Heaven. Grantaire squinted at it and smiled, reaching to grab it in his hand. He reached out, only to grab…. plastic?

            Grantaire opened his eyes wider, until he could get an honest visualization of what was above him. Why, he was not in Heaven at all! It was a hospital room. Grantaire sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his head.  He took a gander around the room, noticing that he connected to several different machines by wired that were attached to various parts of his body. Grantaire also noticed the alarming fact that he no longer felt the perils of his withdrawal, which either meant he really was dead, or he had begun to drink again. What had happened since his last memory? Had he given in to temptation, and drunk so much that he had landed himself in the hospital?

            Suddenly, Grantaire felt pressure on his foot. _Well, that gets rid of the possibility of being dead, then,_ he thought to himself. When he looked at the end of the bed, he noticed a mop of long, raven hair. Grantaire figured that the only logical person it could be was Eponine, so he made a move to wake her.

            “Eponine,” he whispered, reaching out to poke her. When poking did not cause her to stir, Grantaire tried something more radical: hitting her with his pillow. He immediately regretted the action, though, for it made him feel so dreary that he could barely muster the strength to put the pillow back. “Eponine. Wake up.” Fortunately, the assault roused Eponine from her rest, letting out a shriek of happiness.

            “R! You know who I am?!” she exclaimed, jumping up to hug her friend. Grantaire nodded.

            “Yes….?” Grantaire answered, confused. “What happened?” he asked. “Did I….?” He cut off, too ashamed to finish. He hung his head.

            “Did you….?” Eponine’s brows furrowed in confusion before her eyes opened wide. “Oh! No, my dear Grantaire, you didn’t pick up drinking again.”

            Grantaire wilted with relief. “Oh thank goodness.” He sighed, and tilted his head back against his pillow before turning back to his friend. “Why do I feel alright, then?”

            Eponine bit her lip. “Grantaire, what’s the last thing that you remember?”

            Grantaire wracked his brain, trying to figure it out. He had flashes of images in his mind, but there was not anything that he was sure actually happened. He remembered being in his first day of withdrawal, but nothing else. He told Eponine as much.

            Eponine nodded. “Well, it’s been two weeks since you decide to stop drinking, which means you should be done with the withdrawal stage. You had a terrible seizure, and once Marius and I were finally able to get you into the car, we brought you here. You were admitted, and you’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness and having fits ever since.” She kissed him on the forehead. “The doctor said that because of how much you had been drinking before, there was a chance that you wouldn’t make it. I was so worried about you.”

            “And does Enjolras….?

            Eponine shook her head. “No, he still doesn’t know. Marius wanted to tell him, but I convinced him that we needed to respect your wishes about not letting Enjolras know until you were sure you could stay sober. Now that you are awake, though, you should be able to go back to the house with me soon and we can focus on the second part of your goal!”

            Grantaire nodded. Part two, he was more worried about. How would he ever find a job? He was simply an artist, nothing more. In University, he had dreamed of making a living off his paintings, but he could not make that a job that Enjolras would be proud of. No, he needed something bigger. He had always considered being an art teacher, in the back of his mind, though. He had even pursued getting his teaching certificate before he had picked up drinking as extensively. Biting his lip, he looked at Eponine. “’Ponine, I’m scared,” he admitted softly. “I don’t even know how to begin looking for somewhere to work.  Do you think you could possibly see if anyone is looking for a part time art teacher?”

            “I…. actually wanted to talk to you about that,” Eponine said, after a moment. “I may have a job for you. We can always find something different, if you don’t like my idea, but my boss says that he is willing to give you a chance as an Art teacher at my school.” At Grantaire’s shocked expression, she continued. “I showed him your artwork, and…. He liked it, ‘Taire. He liked it a lot. He’s willing to let you try out teaching a two-week class for students going into the school. Of course, it’s going to take another few weeks for you to feel well enough to start, but….”

            Grantaire cut her off, kissing her on the lips and throwing his arms around her. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” He kissed her cheeks over and over again.

            “Hey, stop that before I get jealous,” Marius teased as he entered the room. He came over and hugged Grantaire. “I’m glad to see you feeling better, ‘Taire.”

            Grantaire nodded before yawning, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him. He leaned back on his pillow. “Do you guys mind if I….” he started to say, drifting off in the middle of his sentence.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

            Weeks went by, and soon it was time for Grantaire to begin setting up his classroom for the school year. He had passed the trial, and was hired full-time. Now that he had a job, it was his responsibility to make the empty room good enough for for his art class. Unsure of where to start, he headed toward Eponine’s classroom. Both the adults had been instructed to finish their alcoves by the end of the week. Grantaire stopped outside of the classroom, his heart beating faster as he realized that the voice that he heard was Enjolras’.

            Grantaire leaned against the door, thankful that there wasn’t any windows that Enjolras could see him through. He was uncertain that he wanted Enjolras to see him before Grantaire was able to hold down this job. Grantaire’s common sense was telling him to leave, to return to the country-house and away from Enjolras, but he had to listen to his friend and lover’s conversation. He needed to hear that Enjolras was alright.

            Although, upon harder listening, Grantaire could hear Enjolras sniffling. Was he crying? Grantaire wasn’t sure.

            “I don’t know what I did to make him leave me,” Grantaire could hear Enjolras saying, his voice quivering. “It’s been seven weeks. He promised me that he’d be home soon. Seven weeks is _not_ soon. What if he’s dead? What if he’s drunken himself into such a stupor that he got lost, and can’t find his way home? What if he got into a barfight?” Grantaire could hear Enjolras openly crying now, his voice thick with emotion. “’Ponine, what if I never see him again?”

            “Shh, it’s all right, you’ll see him again,” Eponine soothed. “Even when Grantaire goes missing for days on end, when hasn’t he come home to you again?”

            “But I told him I hated him.” The sound was muffled, leading Grantaire to believe that Enjolras was burying his face in his hands. “I told him I didn’t think I could deal with him much longer. What if he took that as a sign that I didn’t love him anymore and that I wanted him gone? What if he’s decided I’m better off without him?”

            “What did the letter say, exactly?” Grantaire was confused for a moment as to why Eponine would ask this, but then he remembered that he had never shown her the letter.

            “He said that he loved me, and that he would come home a different man. He asked me to wait for him and that he’d be home soon,” Enjolras answered, his voice short and quiet. Grantaire heard a sigh. “He mentioned the letters we had written back and forth when I spent that semester abroad. I keep rereading them, keep rereading how he wanted to spend his forever with me and how he just wanted to know that I was still alive and still his. I didn’t understand his desperation to be certain of both… but now, when I have no idea of either, it’s killing me. I can’t focus on work, I pulled out of the campaign because I couldn’t imagine going on with it without my beloved Nicolas…” Enjolras’ voice broke again. “I just want my Nicolas back so badly. God, I miss him so much.” Noisy tears echoed off the door.

            Grantaire put his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his own sobs. He wanted his Marcelin back more than anything in the world. _Screw part two,_ he decided. His Marcelin would be proud of him for even having a chance of having a job. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open Eponine’s door and burst into the room. Enjolras was facing away from him, hunched over in a chair with his knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried. Eponine’s eyes grew wide when she saw Grantaire. _What are you doing?_ She mouthed.

            “Marcelin,” Grantaire said softly, both in response to Eponine and to get Enjolras’ attention.

            “Now I’m fucking hearing his voice everywhere I go…” Enjolras muttered, his shoulders still trembling, although his sobs had lessened.

            Grantaire walked forward, placing his hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and leaning in to whisper in his ear. “My beautiful Apollo, it’s really me.”

            Enjolras looked up, his eyes widening as he looked at his love before he launched himself at Grantaire, embracing him tightly around the waist and burying his face in his neck. “Baby, I’m sorry, I don’t hate you, I love you, I’m sorry, I miss you, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me again,  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Enjolras repeated over and over, his entire body trembling in Grantaire’s arms, his tears soaking Grantaire’s neck. Grantaire, in response, put one hand on his Apollo’s back and the other on the back of his head, holding him close. Eponine left the room to give the couple some privacy.

            “Marcelin, I should be the one apologizing,” Grantaire said softly, kissing the side of Enjolras’ head. “It’s my fault that I had to go away. You did nothing.” Enjolras mumbled something. Grantaire raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Pardon?”

            Enjolras pulled away before taking Grantaire’s face in his hands and kissing him, hard. Grantaire melted. It had been far too long since he had felt his lover’s lips on his. The kiss was brief, though, much to Grantaire’s disdain. Enjolras pulled back, a look on confusion on his face. “What?” Grantaire asked. He took a moment to really look at Enjolras, something he hadn’t been able to do when Enjolras rushed his way. Grantaire’s Apollo was just as beautiful as ever, but in a tragic way. He had gotten thinner, his skin was paler, and his normally golden hair was lying lackluster in the fluorescent light. It was obvious that he hadn’t shaved or slept in days, a beard taking over the lower half of his face, deep, dark circles under his eyes. Grantaire felt his heart break a bit at the obvious pain he had caused his lover.

            Enjolras narrowed his eyes, his brows furrowing. “….you don’t taste like yourself,” Enjolras said slowly, trying to figure out what was different. Grantaire bit his lip, waiting for Enjolras to figure it out. It was true; it had been a very rare occurrence during the last several years that Grantaire didn’t have the taste of brandy on his breath at any given moment. Suddenly, his lover’s eyes widened. “Nicolas! You’re… you’re sober.” Grantaire nodded, and Enjolras’ brows furrowed again. “Then why aren’t you having withdrawal symptoms?” Grantaire pulled back further and looked Enjolras in the eye, trying to get him to understand why Grantaire had to leave. He could tell Enjolras had figured it out when he let out a breathy, “I love you….” and kissed the man again before pulling him into a hug.  

            “I’ve been sober for 47 days, 10 hours, and 15 minutes,” Grantaire whispered in his lover’s ear, grinning when he felt Enjolras smile into his shoulder. “It has been the hardest 47 days of my life, but I’ve made it, for you.”  His lover pulled him tighter.

            “I’m so proud of you, my Nic,” Enjolras whispered back. Grantaire beamed. He had longed to hear Enjolras say those words, and now that he had, his heart felt as though it would burst for all the love that he felt. Grantaire turned and kissed his Apollo on the cheek.

            “I have another thing to show you,” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras pulled back, an eyebrow raised and his eyes twinkling. Grantaire immediately knew what he was thinking. “No, not like that!” Just the thought of it, though, made Grantaire’s cock twitch in his trousers. That would have to come later though…both figuratively and literally. Grantaire laughed when Enjolras pouted. He stepped back and took Enjolras’ hand. “Although, that will definitely have to happen later….” He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts out of his mind, but really, who could blame him. He _had_ spent nearly two months away from the love of his life. “Close your eyes and follow me.”

            Enjolras did as he was told, and Grantaire let him across the school. Once they were finally inside Grantaire’s room, he nudged his lover. “Marcelin, open your eyes.”

            Enjolras glanced around the empty room before looking back at Grantaire. “R, what is it I am supposed to be looking at?”

            Grantaire took a deep breath before answering. “It’s my classroom.” He turned and looked at the emptiness before he chuckled. “Well, it will be my classroom, once I set everything up.” When Enjolras did not say anything, Grantaire grew worried. He spared a glance at his lover to see Enjolras staring at him with an open jaw, shock evident in his eyes. “….what?”

            Enjolras shook his head, blinking quickly for a moment. “’Taire, that’s… that’s incredible.” He put a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, using his other hand to brush back a lock of Grantaire’s hair before running his thumb in circles along Grantaire’s cheek. He was smiling. “Congratulations.” Enjolras kissed Grantaire deeply before pulling back, still holding his face between his hands, his eyes glinting mischievously. “How about we go home and celebrate, do that one thing you’ve always wanted to try but I’ve never let you…” Enjolras winked. Grantaire felt his face light up, kissing his lover one more time before he was pulled back to Enjolras’ car.

 

Epilogue:

Ten months later.

            “….alright, class, finish packing up and you are free to go!” Grantaire called out over the din of his students. He smiled around the room, taking note of all the paintings left up on the easels. He was so proud of his pupils. They had come so far since the beginning of the school year. Grantaire had to admit, he never realized how much joy having a job would bring him, but he came home more often than not with a smile on his face, telling stories upon stories about the children to his dear Enjy.

            The last ten months had been fair to Enjolras, as well. Even though he had pulled out the campaign, he had still been elected to Congress due to an exorbitant amount of write-in votes. Grantaire was so proud of his partner. He was shining through, finally living his dream. Grantaire smiled at the memory of the night that they had found out about the election before he began to pack up his things as well.

            Grantaire had just finished cleaning up when he heard a knock on the door. He looked up to see Enjolras standing in the doorway, a bouquet of Bird of Paradise flowers in his hand. They were Grantaire’s favorite. He walked over to his lover, kissing him on the cheek before handing him the flowers. Enjolras looked amazing. He had his hair gelled, for once, and was wearing dark jeans, a maroon tee-shirt, and a tan leather jacket.

            “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Grantaire said, moving to kiss Enjolras on the lips.

            Enjolras nodded before returning the kiss. “I figured that since today is exactly one year since you quit drinking, we would go out and do something fun tonight.” He kissed him again. “I was thinking perhaps a picnic by the lake you like so much?”

            Grantaire smiled widely. “That sounds wonderful, Apollo.” He leaned in and pulled his lover into an embrace, breathing in deeply as he pressed his nose against Enjolras’ neck. He would never get tired of the smell that was so unique to his Apollo. He pulled back, still smiling. “Are we going to walk there?”

            Enjolras nodded before gesturing outside, towards where the parking lot was. “I figured since it was such a beautiful day out, you would prefer to walk. I have a backpack in the car with dinner in it. I’ll go grab it and then when we can go.”

            Grantaire nodded, and Enjolras kissed him a final time before leaving the building. Grantaire glanced around his classroom before turning the lights off and shutting the door. As he walked out where Enjolras was, he thought about what a wonderful year this had been. His relationship with Enjolras had blossomed again, and the two had never been more in love. The only thing that Grantaire had yet to get out of the arrangement, though, was the chance at marriage. While he realized that any sort of wedding that they may have would not be recognized by the court, he still desperately wished to call Enjolras his husband, be it legal or not. It was not as if Grantaire had not planned on proposing during the course of the year. On the contrary, he had purchased a ring several months back, but he just never could find the correct time to carry out the proposal.  

            Shaking his head, Grantaire jogged over to where Enjolras was waiting. The two began their stroll, chatting idly as they walked and enjoyed the weather. They soon were setting at Grantaire’s favorite spot. Grantaire had discovered this park a few months after he had begun teaching at the school, during a lesson where his students and he walked around for the better part of the class period to find ideas of things to paint. Grantaire had immediately fallen in love with the park, and had returned there many a time since that day to work on his art, as well as his writing.

            The men settled down on the ground, Enjolras leaning against a tree, with Grantaire between his legs, leaning against his chest. As they ate, they watched in awe as the sun began to set, shades of scarlet and burnt orange filling the sky, highlighted with stray streaks of yellow and light purple. It was beautiful. Suddenly, Enjolras began to shift. Grantaire moved up, allowing his Apollo to pull something out of his pocket. He was agog to see what Enjolras had. Grantaire’s eyes widened as his lover pulled out a box, the possibilities whirring in his mind.  “Enjy, is that….?” His voice trailed off.

            Enjolras nodded, flipping the box open, revealing a simple gold band. “My beautiful Nicolas. I’ve loved you since the day that we met, even through the hardships that we went through with your drinking. This last year has been the best year of my life, having you solely mine once more…. And spending those months away from you taught me that I never want to be apart from you ever again. I… well, I actually bought this ring while you were gone, but the timing just never felt right.” Grantaire chuckled, thinking of the ring that he himself had stored in their bedroom back home. He stopped chuckling as he realized that his own dream was finally coming true. Enjolras wanted to _marry_ him. He wanted to spend forever with him. Grantaire began to beam. “Therefore, Nicolas Ettiéne Grantaire, will you ma—“

            “YES!” Grantaire shouted, not even allowing Enjolras the chance the finish. He blushed a deep red as he realized that he cut his lover off, but, to be honest, he didn’t care. “Yes. Yes I will marry you. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” He held out his hand, and as Enjolras slipped the ring on Grantaire’s finger, before kissing him deeply.

            Grantaire swore that he had never had a happier day in his life.

           

           

 

 


End file.
